Unexpected Gift
by jaimi-or-jaemi
Summary: Mycroft receives an unexpected but appreciated gift. Part two of Miracles.
1. Sherlock's Idea

Prompt: after a lot of prodding and unsolicited helping from Sherlock Mycroft finally realizes that in a world of goldfish he cannot possibly live without Anthea and actually wants to grow old with her.  
>For: NotJane<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1: Sherlock's Idea<br>**_Sherlock's POV  
><em>Christmas had been nine days ago. In those nine days life had drastically changed, and yet it surprisingly remained the same. He had expected things to be a bit more difficult when he returned, particularly after hearing about John's emotional state while he was gone. Instead his partner had given him a bear hug and patched him up before feeding him. It was splendid, unexpected, and made him consider his brother for a bit.

During his time away, he had realized that his brother was lonely. Since he had returned, he had confirmed that with his own eyes and set to figuring out who would be the best goldfish for his brother after their conversation on the subject over Operation. His brother had shown no interesting in males or females equally in recent years. However, on the rare occasions he had noticed attraction they had been dark-haired females, though it was years between each instance. Body shape had not been the same in those cases either, one had been extremely short and thin, another middle height and plump, a third slender but muscle and on the tall side, and the last time had been just a bit shorter than him with curves. What does that get him? Dark-haired, female, slightly taller, curvy but not fat, with higher intelligence than the average person.

Anthea, his mind supplies, she fits all of those criteria. Past that, she has already proven to be able to work with and anticipate his brother's needs. She has been his assistant for nearly a decade.

It is time to review her. Well she fits the general type his brother has favored in the past. Most of the men she had dated were either dark-brown or auburn haired with a similar build to his brother when he is healthy. This leads him to believe that she is attracted to his brother. She is more protective of him than she needs to be. Often times giving him disapproving looks when he makes comments about his brother's weight or intelligence.

So how to get them together? Matchmaking is not something he is skilled at. Perhaps he can get John to help him. In the meanwhile he will research all the means in which to get them together. Perhaps he should contact her to see if she has any ideas, after all she made a living out of understanding people's needs and desires. Besides, she owed him for saving her life. Nah, his John had not been happy with her in their life the first time, best not to cause waves in their still new relationship. Perhaps he should enlist Mummy's help? After all, she would be thrilled if her Myc was finally in a relationship. Of course if he did that, then he would have to explain that he didn't need help for himself, that he was happy about his relationship with John and he wasn't ready to do that yet.

Instead, he grabs John's laptop and settles at the desk with it in front of him and a pad of paper beside him. Lots of notes, he thinks, then he can have John help him sort through with the best ideas.

When John gets home from the clinic six hours later that is exactly how he finds him, still engrossed in his research. The sound of his flatmate and lover opening the downstairs door draws his attention away from the research he is doing. According to the sound of his steps on the stairs, he had a very bad day. Maybe he should wait until tomorrow before asking for John's help or maybe he should ask him now and distract him.

Unsure, he hops to his feet, and heads into the kitchen to make tea for his doctor. Maybe that will help him feel better.

"Hello John," he greets the smaller man, turning to smile at him when he comes through the door.

"Hello Sherlock," his lover tiredly greets him as he hangs his coat.

A quick look over his flatmate tells him all about the shorter man's day. Three people had vomited him, he had to tell a man that his blood work came back positive for cancer, and he had one bloke try to take a swing at him for reporting him for child abuse.

Definitely use his current goal to distract his John, "Tea water is nearly ready," he tells the shorter man with a smile.

"I'll make the tea, order something for us to eat please," his lover replies.

Nodding, he heads into the living room and texting Angelo to bring them dinner. A moment later his phone buzzes, with Angelo notifying him that he will be there in half-hour with the food.

"So what have you been up to today?" his lover inquires as he comes into the living room a few minutes later with two hot cups of tea.

"Research," he replies grabbing his note pad.

Settling into his armchair, his lover queries, "About what?"

"I'll tell you about it after Angelo gets here with dinner, he should be here in fifteen minutes or so if you want a quick shower." He suggests.

For a moment the smaller man thinks about it before finishing is cuppa and doing just that. While his lover is in the shower, he gets his notes organized and grabs a new notepad for himself and John, along with pens. Just as he hears the shower turn off, he hears the knock at the door that is Angelo bringing his food. Heading down to the front door, he opens it, thanking Angelo for bringing it over, before going back upstairs to set out their dinners. Immediately after laying out the food, John comes wandering into the living room from their room with sleeping pants, slippers, and his house robe on. The fact that his lover is in his robe brings a smile to his face.

The two of them sit side by side on sofa as they eat off of the coffee table.

"Thanks," his lover murmurs appreciatively as he sits down to eat, "So what have you been researching?"

"Mycroft needs a goldfish," he answers as he uses a fork to grab a bite.

"Your referring to a significant other and not an animal right?" the shorter man queries after he finishes his bite.

Nodding, he sits back and reaches for the notebook he had set on the small side table. "I made notes, but the suggestions are so contradictory that I am not sure what is valid or not. Can you help me sort through it?"

Shaking his head, his lover chuckles, responding, "Sure, I'll help when we are done. Do you have a 'goldfish' in mind?" There is amusement and emphasis put on the goldfish.

He nods, grabbing another bite to eat, "His PA is his type based off of past choices. He's her type according to her past relationships too."

His lover's expressive face reflects the amusement that he is currently feeling at the idea. Though he is not sure if it is the idea of Mycroft with Anthea that his flatmate finds so funny, or the fact he has been trying to find a way to play matchmaker. Either way, it has made the doctor a lot less stressed than he was when he first walked into the door after work.

"That's interesting," the shorter man mutters before taking another bite.

For a little bit they are silent as they finish up dinner. While he does not eat a lot, his love does, and he waits patiently for him to finish. When they are done, he carefully cleans everything up while John makes them new cups of tea. After all that is done, the pair of them settles back onto the sofa, teas in front of them, and notebooks in their hands. Over the next few hours he goes over all of the matchmaking practices that he had found. While he is speaking, John is taking notes, carefully keeping an eye on him as he does so.

Afterward, he quizzes him on some of the things he had noted and they use the laptop to look up more information in some cases. It takes a few more hours still before they come to a tentative what not to do list, but the to-do list is rather small and he is not sure that it will work.

Eventually John remarks jokingly, "Why don't you just kidnap them? I am sure you can find a way to get them separated from their guards?"

Startled by the idea, he stops and thinks about it for a few minutes, eyes widening as a plan comes to mind. Of course! Why didn't he think of that? Isn't he supposed to be the genius in this relationship? "You're brilliant!" he tells his flatmate and lover with a huge smile, "Keep going, is there something you would suggest before or after?"

"Seriously?" John asks a bit startled.

He nods, grabbing his pen and paper to jot down ideas as he has them. "Please?"

Shaking his head, the shorter man replies, "Alright then, well first you need to get the idea in Mycroft's head. After all, if it's not there, he won't act on it. Secondly, perhaps it is her you should kidnap, not him or them, then he can play the hero and rescue her. Perhaps during the rescue you can trap them together in order to give a chance to admit their affection or attraction. "

"You're still the perfect conductor of light John," he compliments his lover as he writes furiously, a plan coming together in his mind. "Do you think I should enlist Anthea's assistance to make sure she really does want him?" he queries, pausing his writing for a moment, depending on that answer is what his next plan idea will be.

"It is a good idea. She might even be able to help with the 'kidnapping' and 'retrieval'." His John answers as he sips at his tea. "You know, I never would have thought we would have a discussion like this or that you would treat it like a serious case."

Blushing he glances at his paper, muttering, "I realized while you were gone that I don't want Mycroft to be as lonely as I was when I was gone. For him to not be lonely he needs a goldfish of his own. Though like you, Anthea is fairly intelligent, so I think you two are more salmon able to learn and adapt."

Chuckling, John shakes his head again, "Alright, a salmon? Been called worse, besides, salmon can be pretty flashy at times too, and it's better than goldfish. Do you need any more help?"

"Do you have her number? It was on my old phone but that one was broken while I was gone," he asks after thinking about it for a few minutes.

Nodding, his lover fetches his phone, passing it to him with the number pulled up.

"Thank you," he mutters as he memorizes it, since he had been back he was trying to have better manners with John, even if with no one else.

"If you're to a point where you can go on your own, I am going to read for a bit, alright?"

He nods again, "Alright, I put a few new books by your armchair that I thought you might like," he comments as he texts Anthea and asks her to stop by at her earliest convince. He is planning a surprise for Mycroft's birthday and would appreciate her input and silence. A few minutes later he gets a response.

-Be there at ten- A

"She'll be here at ten John," he tells his flatmate once the meeting is scheduled.

"Alright," his lover responds before returning to his book.

Now he just has to figure out how to convince her to go with his plan.


	2. Antthea's Visit

**Chapter 2: Anthea's Visit  
><strong>_Anthea's POV  
><em>She had been surprised when her phone had vibrated just after dinner with a message from her boss's brother asking that she stop by in order to help him plan for a surprise for Mycroft's birthday. While she is a bit weary, particularly of the fact she had never seen him do something nice for her boss, she was willing to hear him out at least. So she had finished out her day, making sure that her boss ate dinner and helping with any paperwork as he needed.

After work she had drove over to Baker Street, knocking twice before Mrs. Hudson had let her in, mildly shocked according to her expression.

Heading up the stairs, she knocks once on their door before John bids her to enter, asking if she wants a cuppa nearly as soon as she is in the door.

"Yes, thank you," she replies politely, mildly surprised at the offer.

When she had first met the doctor nearly four years prior she had thought him a bit thick, particularly when he continued to flirt with her despite the fact she was ignoring his existence. Then she had discovered that he was fiercely loyal, and pretty much flirted with all females, though he didn't seem to really be interested in any of them. She had seen the attraction between the younger Holmes and the doctor long before either of them ever acknowledged. She had also been the one to watch as the doctor went on dates and selected women that nothing ever came from.

A few moments later he is returning with that tea as if he had expected her answer and motioning her towards the sofa to sit on.

With a glance around the room she takes in all the details that she had previously only seen through cameras. It does seem to be a lot cleaner than it used to be, with the mess being mostly confined to the kitchen table and a u-shaped desk. Apparently the doctor was good for the younger Holmes brother. However, despite glancing around, she does not see him anywhere only the doctor, why would he request she come over and not be here?

"Sherlock will be just a moment. His last experiment somehow sort of changed his hair blue so he is trying to wash it out." The doctor explains after sitting down in an armchair with a union jack pillow.

She blinks at him for a moment, not sure if the shorter man is serious or not though his expression says he is. "Does this sort of thing happen often?" she eventually inquires, glancing towards where she knows the bathroom to be.

Shaking his head slightly, the doctor replies, "Luckily no, though this is a rather small accident compared to some of them that have occurred."

She nods and sips at the tea, mildly surprised by the fact it is almost exactly the way she prefers it. Pulling her phone out of her pocket she decide to check the following days schedule, make sure that everything is perfectly orderly and time will not be wasted. There will be three appointments with other 'minor officials' tomorrow, along with one with the heads of both MI5 and MI6. The rest of the day will be spent in the office, running errands for her boss, and trying to get a head of paper work. Maybe they will get out early, though she doubts it, this time of year is particularly busy with everything going on between holidays, the after effects, and all the law makers thinking that it's now a good time to start change stuff during the time of new begins.

Less than ten minutes later, a still moist Sherlock emerges from the bathroom grumbling, his hair a dark shade of blue in the bright light of the kitchen, though closer now to its normal coloring.

Still grumbling, he grabs a pad of paper off the messy u-table, before taking his seat in the second armchair, after a quick glance at the doctor he mutters, "Thank you for coming over," before she has a chance to respond, he continues in his normal tone, "I have recently decided that my brother is in need of companionship. After a careful review of his tastes I have come to a decision on who would be a good match for him."

Her eyes widen at that statement. In all the years she had known the elder Holmes he had never dated or even looked at a person for intimate moments. To her knowledge he was as asexual as she had originally thought that Sherlock was until he had met the doctor. Who would be a good match? And why was he telling her? Probably because she could insure that the two had time together, after all, she really would like to see him happy for a change because she had a feeling he was never happy, merely content and existing.

What about yourself? She thinks, you have wanted him since you started but heard that it wasn't wise to flirt with the Iceman so you didn't. Hell, if he even noticed the types you dated he'd see a pattern of they look like him, though it had taken five of them before she had noticed the pattern. Then there was the fact they were all high powered in their fields. Still, she'd help Sherlock with his quest and give up on her secret hopes that someday her boss might notice she was a breathing, feeling woman, not just an extension of himself.

So the next words out of the younger brother's mouth completely freeze her mind, "You happen to be his type. You have intelligence, just a little shorter than him, physically the build that he prefers. Even better, he seems to be your type from the ones you have dated that I know of."

She's not sure what to say to all of that. Is he trying to taunt her? That does not seem to be his style. This is not some elaborate scheme to embarrass his brother is it? Why would he even approach it?

"What Sherlock is trying to get to is, he wants to hook the two of you up, but it was suggested that he actually speak with you first, make sure he hadn't misread the situation since personal relationships is not his strong suite." The doctor remarks from his chair, his eyes warm as he watches her.

"You're serious?" she queries, still having a hard time to believe it.

"I originally considered just kidnapping the two of you, but John reminded me that the protection detail might take it wrong and cause problems. So here we are. So?" Sherlock replies staring at her hard.

She is certain that there is an important detail she is missing but she is not sure what it is.

"Did I read the situation right or not? You're his birthday present if you want him." the younger man demands.

Glancing at her phone, she considers everything she had eaten today, a small part of her is wondering if she had eaten enough or been drugged. Did he really just ask if she wanted his brother in a sexual fashion?

"I thought he was asexual," she eventually remarks.

"No, he just does not like meaningless sex, the last time he had a proper relationship was uni." The detective answers, "He was rather fond of her but stopped dating after they graduated because he saw it as a dead end despite the fondness. After that," he shrugs, "well he saw it as pointless and turned his attention to excelling in his field instead."

"You have a plan," she inquires, "What is it?"

"Was I wrong?" he repeats.

She shakes her head, "You're not. I do find your brother attractive."

"Attractive you wish to keep him in bed for a week or attractive you wouldn't mind a relationship?" he questions with his intense focus completely on her.

Lifting her head, she replies, "Relationship," years of working around crude men is the only reason she's not blushing right now.

"Good," he smiles suddenly, "First off, I debated about his birthday, which is several months away, or Valentine's Day. So we have time, but I want to start the planning now, particularly since it is going to take careful planning. Which would you prefer?"

"Valentines," she replies, "less waiting, this is one subject I really do not wish to keep waiting for."

He nods, using a pen that he pulled from somewhere and starts scratching notes quickly, before firing off a round of questions, barely giving her a chance to answer before he was asking the next. For just about an hour and two cups of tea later they did this before he finally sits back with a smile.

"Perfect, that's five weeks away, plenty of time to get his mind geared in that direction and make some arrangements. I'll be in touch," the detective tells her before standing and heading over to his computer, promptly forgetting she is there.

For a moment she just stares at him not sure what to do before standing gracefully, "Good evening Doctor Watson, Mr. Holmes," she murmurs as she heads to the door.

"Have a good night Anthea," the doctor replies as he collects the tea cups.

In her car she stares at the wheel for a moment as she considers the fact she just spent the last hour, nearly two conspiring with her bosses brother and his lover as to how to kidnap her boss so he would end up in her bed. This could easily be a sticky situation, but if the younger Holmes was right, the pay off would be excellent. She would have to see what happens next.


	3. In Action

**Chapter 3: In Action  
><strong>_Mycroft's POV  
><em>His brother has been nauseatingly happy since he reconnected with Doctor Watson. The two of them had returned nearly completely to their old way of life from before the Fall, the only major difference was they were now in an open and affectionate relationship. Part of him envied the easy relationship the two of them had. He would never admit to the fact that he was jealous of them but it was still there. He wanted someone that he could come home to, who would understand him.

On the sixth of January he had stopped by to wish his brother happy birthday, he was surprised when he got there to discover that his brother was having something like a birthday party that the doctor was hosting. It was a moment later that he remembered that the doctor had texted him an invite, along with having Amaya deliver a printed card request. Originally he had decided not to come because he thought he would feel out of place, and look he had.

"Hello brother mine," he hears Sherlock great him before he has a chance to back out of the flat without being noticed, "Come in, there's plenty of cake to eat along with tea and other treats."

Blinking, he is trying to think of how he is going to get out before the others notice.

"Mycroft! I'm happy you decided to show," he hears the doctor as the smaller man comes hurtling towards them. "For a bit I thought that you wouldn't."

Internally sighing, he nods at the smaller man, accepting the small plate in his hand, and mildly shocked when it is his favorite type of cake.

Again before he can speak the smaller man is off and away, checking on how the detective inspector and Doctor Hooper are doing before heading into the kitchen again, humming softly as he goes.

With a fond smile his brother watches the doctor before turning his attention back to him, "Despite how often I snip about cake I am certain that is not why you are here. You tend to avoid social events unless you're being paid to be there."

Reaching in his pocket he pulls a small package out and silently hands it to his brother.

Raising an eyebrow, his brother takes it, carefully looking it over before opening it, he is surprised by the fact his brother has not said anything about it. "Why?" he inquires as he opens the box.

"You are the most like him of the family, it was appropriate," he replies as he uses the fork to eat his cake, enjoying every bite.

A genuine smile curves his younger brother's lips as he pulls the small pocket watch and chain out of box. It had been their great uncle's, the man who had encouraged Sherlock with his dreams and experiments even when the rest of the family had not. He had died two years ago while his brother was gone and this was the first chance he had to give his brother the watch.

"Thank you," Sherlock murmurs, carefully placing it back in the box and tucking it in his pocket.

He inclines his head as he considers the thanks, again startled by the changes in his normally stoic and sarcastic brother who he cannot recall the last time he was actually thanked.

"Any luck on your own goldfish?" his brother inquires after a bit, watching his chatting with the other two.

"I do not need a goldfish, brother mine," he replies a bit stiltedly.

"Your right, you need a salmon instead, goldfish are dull, however there are not a lot of salmon floating around and you cannot have mine. Perhaps you should consider one of those matchmaking agencies. I believe your assist has experience with those, perhaps you should ask her." His brother suggests before going to rejoin the others.

He stares after him for a moment before shaking his head and leaving without another word to anyone. As he walks away he hears the doctor wish him a good day, but no one else does.

Two weeks later he is back to give his brother a case involving a member of the peerage thought to be running a prostitution ring. So far every member of MI5 and MI6 they have sent in has either had their cover blown or ended up dead, so as a last ditch effort he decided to see if his brother could pull off what the trained operatives had not. His other choice was to do so himself but that was not going to happen since he had recently been told that he was to attend a Valentine's masquerade.

"Brother mine, what do you want, today's been boring," his brother tells him as he steps through the door.

Glancing around the flat, he notes that the doctor has been working at the clinic the last few days and had not been home much.

"I have a small job for you," he answers the sulking detective as he holds out the folder, "Finding out who the main player in the ring is, get me the proof so I can get rid of them."

His brother nods as he accepts the folder, thumbing through the papers while he listens. "I'll do it." Lifting his phone, his brother quickly sends off a text which is responded to less than a minute later, "For a change this is not going to be boring. Is everything you know in the file?"

"Yes," he replies as he watches his brother.

"Good," his brother remarks, "Have you seen the bloke your assistance was with last? I thought it was you for a moment, the resemblance was uncanny, but he was too short. Its remarkable really, every time I have seen her off duty, the men she favors look a great deal like you."

Flushing, he quickly excuses himself before leaving.

Just over a week later he is called back to his brother's flat as he hands over several files, a camera, and notes. There is enough information there in order to deal with them, but his brother's comment when he goes to take the paperwork has them curious.

"I will text when I am ready for your team to take them." the younger tells him, "I'd suggest having your PA do the initial entry, she's got the type of looks that they prefer and will not realize straight off that she is there to take them into custody."

Blinking, he nods and does as suggested, the following day he has Amaya go first, watching through the cameras as all of the men in the building, even those who are far too interested in his brother have their attention drawn to her as she just about floats in. All eyes are on her, particularly the guards which works perfectly for when his men come in a moment later to take everyone in their into their custody except for his brother, his partner, and PA, all of which slip out while the rest are being cuffed. The two that try to escape get hit hard upside their head before it is done.

Afterwards, as he sits in his office reviewing the video, he watches his assistant. How she moves, acts, and responds. His brother is right that she is physically the type that he tends to like, but she has never shown any interest in him. In the fact, as he thinks about those that she has dated, they are similar to him, well sort of, they are about the same height, have dark auburn red hair, and come from powerful jobs. Maybe his brother is right, maybe he does need a goldfish of his own, but is it really worth it?

oOo

Anthea's POV

In the next few weeks a few things happened including the German Minister of Defense decided to hold a masquerade ball for Valentines, her boss was informed that he had to attend and with a date, and Sherlock had gotten in touch with her to inform her that her costume was going to be delivered to her house the night before they were to leave. Three times her boss had gone over to visit his brother, and each time he had done so he had returned to the office with a speculative look in his eyes. Then there was the night that they had to deal with the prostitution ring which included six members of the peerage, over ten high powered executives, and more than thirty underage prostitutes, most of which had been sold into the ring by their families or kidnapped and sold into them.

By the time they have to prepare in order to go to Germany for the ball, she is wondering why she even considered going with the younger Holmes' plan. Then she remembers, she wants to see if he is right, if her boss really would like her.

Giving a small shake of her head, she packs everything before double checking the security plans including the fact that they apparently have a private suite to themselves for if all goes well.

The following morning she collects her things and her boss before they head to the airport. The flight over is quick, mostly done in silence. They will dress for the event when they get to the embassy. She is not exactly sure what style masquerade outfit she will be wearing, however she is certain that it would play to her features.

At the embassy they head into their individual rooms and she opens the clothing case that has her costume in it, surprised when she finds that hers seems to be designed to look like a multi-tone red flower of some variety, her mask covered most of her face with small red ambrosia flowers on the edges around the eyes. In with the costume is note suggesting that she leave most of her hair free falling however there are a few more ambrosia flower clips to hook into her hair. There are also a collection of make-ups, all of which are designed to compliment her coloring.

Biting her lip, she carefully dresses, though she is pleased to see that there is a slot for her knives, her phone, and a small collection of lock picks.

Glancing at the clock, she smiles, she's supposed to meet her boss in the entry way to the ball room in find minutes.

One last glance at the mirror, she thinks, let's go startle Mycroft.


	4. Kidnapping and After Effects

_Mycroft's POV  
><em>He was awaiting his assistant just outside of the entry door to the wing that their rooms were in. According to a few of the diplomats that he had already seen his outfit was very like the Phantom of the Operas. Though he frowned at the comparison, he had not dressed to match a story character. A few minutes later, while he is doing a mental review of all of the political players that are currently dancing in the ballroom below, his attention is drawn when the door to their wing of rooms is opened and out steps Amaya. His thoughts stop as he processes the red and gold touched gown she is wearing with the mask.

A red chrysanthemum, his mind supplies, her dress reminds me of a red chrysanthemum, which means I love you. Then her mask and hair is decorated with ambrosia flowers, meaning your love is reciprocated. What? Why has she worn a dress with that sort of meaning?

She is gorgeous, he thinks, there is no way that she would ever be interested in someone as plain as him. Despite that his mind, which has always been so much faster than everyone except his mother and brother's, freezes for the first time in his life. The implications of her chosen outfit sent him processing everything he has ever known about her. From her tendency to change her name based on her mood, though he might be the only person who actually knows her real name any more, to the fact she is rather fond of her clothing choices and dresses sharply always to the details of the men she has dated over the years. While his outwardly expression says nothing of his inner turmoil, his mind seems bound to taunt him because every man she has dated has been similar to him in some way. Since nearly the beginning of their working together, when he had hired her after she had gotten past his staff while breaking into his house while coming after treasure she was sure his house would hold. There had been attraction that night too, though he had ignored it as he had taken in the rest of her details. Since they had started working together he had learned even more about the determined young woman, and she had applied the same amount of details to her job with him as she had when she was still a thief.

He comes out of the mind freeze as her lips curl in something of a smirk, the same one she gives any time they are going to be on assignment and her outfit is what it needs to be.

Offering her his arm politely, the two of them walk downstairs to the ball proper where they are announced, him under his official name, and her under her favorite secondary name of Anthea. There is not actually a goal here tonight rather than just attending a masquerade and the normal political visits that occur when so many get together. It is rather unusual for him to have no secondary purpose but alas, his assignment was merely to attend and make sure that he maintained relations with those they were already working with.

Over the next few hours, the majority of his time was spent speaking with different diplomats though his PA rarely left his side as they moved from group to group. When they were not doing that, they were dancing, something he found to be rather enjoyable. Particularly on those dances where they ended up pressed close together, his mind realizing that they were a physical perfect fit, with her being just the right height and curvy.

Maybe when they return home he should ask her about the dress, he is excellent at double speak, so he should be able to come up with a logical way to do so. Right. Like any of his reactions to that dress and its meanings have been logical so far.

oOo

_Anthea's POV  
><em>So far it has been a wonderful night. When the younger Holmes had first suggested a combination of a masquerade and arranged kidnapping she had figured he could never pull it off even as she had agreed with him. That's why she had been surprised when orders had come through to attend the Valentine's Masquerade ball and a letter was delivered by a rather creepy looking man detailing his plan for her kidnapping, including telling her which of Mycroft's guards to have on duty that night. The night of the ball she had done as directed by the letter and was simply enjoying herself.

Just after midnight, she was going to be passed a drink by one of the waiters that would cause her to become tired. Apparently it was designed to mimic true exhaustion and leave no chemical after effects. At that point she was to head up to her room for the night where a pair of men was going to be waiting to kidnap her. They would be staging the scene to look as if there was a serious threat, and she had been told one of their problems would be the fall man, though she was concerned about which one would be selected and how they would be dealt with.

She was unaware of where she was going, because at that point she would probably be unconscious, though he had promised the antidote to the drug as soon as she arrived wherever it was he had arranged for her to go. Still, she was quite happy that the dress he had decided on held spots for her tools, particularly since she never liked to go anywhere without them. Even better was the fact that her dress hid them, and a cursory check would not reveal any of them if the situation somehow got out of hand.

As the ancient bell tower in a nearby church began to chime, she cannot help the smile that curves her lips. Its show time. Now to see if he was right, if there was any chance of something happening between herself and Mycroft.

oOo

_Sherlock's POV  
><em>The trip to Germany was a quick one, and all the arrangements had been made already for how the night was going to unfold. When he had first approached the German Defense Minister about assisting with a pet project while helping to get rid of a local problem, she had been leery, however he had carefully outlined his plan, well the parts she needed to know, and the older woman had agreed with a shark smile. Tonight was going to be one of those nights for the record book. It was not often he pulled a stunt like this. Even better was he had John at his side while he did it, and while he could not be the one to give Anthea the drug-one of his own design actually- he had selected the best member of the Minster's staff to do so. Giving the young man a rather nice tip to give her the drink, though he did not tell him what was in it. Really, it's best not to let the pawns know they are pawns.

What he had not told Anthea is his brother was also being dosed, only throughout the entire night so the effects would not strike until shortly after midnight with a truth serum of his own design as well. Might as well make sure that he is being honest about his feelings for his PA after all.

As the bells ring above he smiles happily at John standing next to him. The plan is about to go into action. Excellent.

oOo

_Mycroft's POV  
><em>Just a little after midnight, he is surprised when his normally energetic PA suddenly claims to be tired. Glancing at her mildly concerned, he automatically reads the situation, realizing that there is something off, she does not show any signs of being drugged, yet she is far more tired than she normally would be at this point in the night. Something is going on. He just has to figure out what it is.

Politely excusing himself and his assistance from their hostess, he escorts her to her room above stairs, carefully checking the door for any signs of tampering before she goes in, and deciding at the last minute to check the room itself too.

What he finds is a bit of a shock as a thick hand biffs him on the back of the neck, causing him to collapse unconscious.

When he comes to, his assistant is gone, the signs scattered about the room point to a locally run but international drug and gun organization that he had been working on getting rid of for years, though they had not been as problematic as some of the other groups so he had never fully focused on them. Well that was changing as of this moment. Carefully not to touch anything, he scans the room, discovering a notice to him on her bed.

**-**Mr. Holmes  
>Your assistant will be in our tender mercies until you agree to the terms we set forth. Do not bother to bring anyone else into the situation or you will receive pieces of her.<strong><span>-<span>**

There was no signature and the point was quite clear. However it left him in quite a quandary, he was known as the Iceman for a reason and it was not his sunny disposition yet he did not want to risk her life prior to discovering if all the signs he had been reading tonight were correct. She is the most useful PA he has ever had, there is no way he is going to allow them to harm her if he can avoid it, and woe to any who thinks to try. Why the hell did this have to happen when he was trying to decide what to do about her? Narrowing his eyes, he decides to play along but they really do not know what they are in for.

After retreating to his room, and carefully rubbing the back of his sore neck, he carefully opens his brief case before removing the false bottom and taking out the two hand guns that are kept there, along with the lock picking kit, throwing knives, and garrotes. Within a few minutes he has changed out of his costume and into what appears to be one of his regular sleek black bespoke suits, only this one is designed for when he actually has to go into the field with spots for a variety of his tools.

If anyone would have seen his expression as he finished tucking the carefully designed garrote into his sleeve they would have shivered in fear. While anyone who saw him just after would have fled for their life.

Silently, he makes his way out the building, by passing all the areas where there are lots of people and out into the garage where he finds his driver resting in the front seat. He is mildly surprised at that, until he remembers that he had not dismissed him for the night, so he was waiting for orders.

Carefully waking the other man, he gives him directions on where to go, and silently settles into the back seat. Take his assistant and threaten him? Not a good idea, they were about to learn why he was the Iceman in the most brutal fashion he could manage without his staff. Speaking of his staff, he would have his driver check in with his guards as soon as he was at location. Upon pulling close to where he needed to be, he had the driver stop, telling Jack to check with his guards, before slipping out of the car and ghosting his way up to the building.

His mind automatically determines the layout of the building from its dimensions. The two guards that are at the door go down quietly as he strikes out with a quick thrust to each of their throats, hitting the nerves that controls movement and easy breathing. Both are living but it will be a long while before either is going anywhere. Just as silently he slips into the building, following the same trend with each of the guards that he can. He is trying to avoid killing any of them at this moment, though he has his weapons at easy access just to be on the safe side.

After making his way through the building he finds his assistant, along with the leaders of this particularly group, including the primary leader, gathered in a room with his assistant just sort of thrown on a cot in the corner of the room while the different men are arguing. Carefully listening, he is surprised to learn that this was not the leaders plan, however his men thought it was. They thought that they were following his orders. No matter, the entire lot of them were about to be out of the question. Clicking a button on his phone he sends out a message to a team to come do clean up, not worrying about how long it will take when his phone vibrates to tell him the message got out.

"This was a very stupid idea," he informs the room at large, using a voice trick he had learned years before to make it sound like he was speaking from everywhere and nowhere.

Each and every one of the thugs and idiots below eyes widen and jerked as they looked around looking for where the voice came from.

"Apparently someone has decided to set your foolish selves up, and look you feel right into that trap." He continues to move along the edge of the room while keeping his voice pitched to carry. "Give up before you are all dead."

In the pocket with his phone, he feels it as it buzzes not once or twice, but three times, the sign that the team is getting ready to enter. Whenever he ends up in the field, he makes sure a team is ready in case of emergencies, but this is a bit quicker than he had expected.

Moments later the team is infiltrating the room as he slips in behind his PA to cut her bonds, only to discover they have already been cut and her eyes flicker open with a smile.

"Hello Sir," she murmurs, partly sleepily because it had been a long day, "is it time to go?"

He nods, offering her a hand up, "It is. Did I mention you are looking quite beautiful tonight?" he responds before actually thinking it through. Blinking in shock, he stares at her for a moment as he reviews everything he had eaten tonight. It was a lot of the same things as everyone else, so why did he feel as if he had been given truth serum? There was an overwhelming urge to tell her that he wants her, though it is one he is fighting. After all, his assistant might not want him.

Giving a small shake of his head, he carefully tucks a hand against the small of her back as he helps her out to the waiting car. All of the idiots that had been here are in custody, either his men's or the German police. As they slide into the car, he finds himself wondering how long the serum is going to last, particularly since he has not been able to identify what type it is.

As he settles next to her, she answers his question, "Not aloud you did not, but your eyes did earlier."

Nodding, he inquires, "Do you understand exactly what that dress was designed to say?"

Tilting her head to the side she nods once, a light blush covering her skin.

Raising an eyebrow, he looks at her thoughtfully for a moment before deciding that he could lose nothing if he did not try. So he carefully scoots closer to her, carefully lifting one of her hands and carefully running the tips of his fingers over the pads of her fingers. They are nearly touching from shoulder to knee and he can feel the warmth of her body. When she softly gasps, his eyes flicker over at her to take in the slightly glazed expression in her eyes. A small part of him is curious how responsive she really is going to be if just this simple action can cause the flush and look on her face now. Perhaps something more could come of this. With a smile, he moves from rubbing her fingers to slowly working his way up her hand, rubbing small circles into her wrist.

Several minutes later they have returned to the mansion, where the Defense Minister is waiting for them. After the necessary formal conversation is done, everyone retires to their rooms. When they reach their rooms, he is mildly surprised when she takes hold of his hand at her door and gently tugs him in after her.

Startled but willing, he follows, using his heel to close the door behind them. A moment later he steps up close to her, their bodies nearly flush as he studies her slightly upturned face. Like when they were in the car he can feel the warmth radiating from her body. Her eyes are wide the silver of her irises nearly overtaking her pupils. He can see the attraction reflected in her features from her shallow breaths to the upturned expression on her face.

Slowly, giving her plenty of time to step away he lifts his hands to cup her jaw before softly kissing her on the lips. The kiss turns from soft and gentle, deepening into something a bit more sensual. When he finally lifts his head, he studies her face, her breathes are even shallower, a slight flush has overcome her face, and her eyes have drifted shut. Smiling slightly, he returns to kissing her, nibbling at her lower lip for a moment before running his tongue across the edge of her lip. When her lips open once more his tongue slips inside to carefully trace her inner lips and teeth, before softly stroking her tongue. When she moans softly and arches just the slightest bit into him, he can feel the reaction his body is having.

When they break apart the second time, she murmurs, "Mycroft," her voice full of need.

"Yes Amaya?" he murmurs in response, using her real name.

Her eyes narrow for a moment before she smiles, "Take me to bed," she replies.

He nods once, nimble fingers stroking from the soft skin of her jaw down her throat to graze over her shoulders, his thumbs lightly rubbing circles into her skin, tracing each muscle and bone lightly. Once more he kisses her. This time her arms come up wrap around him, her long slender fingers skimming up and down his back, while one hand rises to sink into the thicker hair at the nape of his neck.

Somehow the two of them end up backed up against the bed without looking. Carefully he unfastens her gown by feeling rather than by sight, smiling as it falls to the ground in a puddle around her feet, leaving her in nothing but the lacy red bikini style knickers. For a moment he can do nothing but stare, because she is far lovelier to look at then he had realized with a body designed to make a man beg with curves in all the right places. He had never been one to like women who were too thin or two muscular. Her mocha colored skin is all natural, a gift of her Middle Eastern heritage.

While he is busy staring, her cleaver fingers are carefully unfastening the buttons on his clothing, pulling the bottom and tails out of his pants so that his shirt and jacket are hanging off his solid frame while her fingers are tracing over his muscles.

Coming out of his daze, he shrugs off the shirt and coat, mentally chiding himself when he wants to stop to hang their clothing up. Times like this it really sucks to have OCD. Instead, he focuses on her carefully pushing her backwards to sprawl on the bed while he leans over to explore his way across her body. He nibbles, licks, kisses, rubs small circles, and touches every inch of her body he can reach. While taking care to pay close attention to her reactions with each touch. She gasps when his tongue flickers against the pulse in her throat, moans when his fingers cup her breasts, writhes when his lips close around first one nipple, than the other. Each reaction is catalogued for later use.

He loves the little noises that escaping her, her pleas, gasps, moans, groans, and breathy sighs.

He knows when she is close, he can feel her straining her against him. Smiling as he continues to explore his way down her body, he pauses when he gets to the edge of her lacy panties, thumbs cooking under the edges in order to slowly pulls them down. He runs the edge of his tongue down the crease between where her torso and leg before nibbling across her lower stomach to do the same thing on her other side. There is a delectable scent of arousal coming from her. Once her panties are gone, he settles himself between her legs, hands grazing back up her legs, skimming them softly as he pushes them just a little bit further apart.

Glancing up, his smile grows at the sight laid out before. Amaya is stretched out with her head thrown back, small little dark pink spots scattered across her body from where he had nibbled on her, her fingers are clutching the blankets on either side of her.

"Please," she keens arching towards his touch.

He smirks as he leans down just a bit and runs his tongue along her opening causing her to arch her hips and gasp. One long finger slips in her, seeking that sweet spot within. He knows when he has it because of the cry of need that escapes her.

"Mycroft," she groans, "please," she starts pleading, "more!"

The next several moments are spent with him enjoying himself and making her beg for more before he finally presses down on her clit and g-spot at the same time, making her arch as her body lets go. The taste of her arousal is excellent, but the taste of her pleasure is nearly perfect. Slowly straighten, he enjoys the view for a few moments more, considering whether he should strip and join her or not.

The decision is made for him when she sits up after a moment, slender fingers unfastening his trousers to push both them and his pants off. Smiling, at him, she kicks off her heels before sliding further up the bed and crooking her finger at him to join her.

Groaning, he kicks off his clothes, toeing off his shoes and socks as he does so before clamoring on to the bed beside her. Now that he is completely bare and she is actively watching him, his self consciousness comes to the forefront including the doubt that she could find him physically attractive. While he knows he looks good in a suit, their designed to look good after all, he knows that without the suit his body is not much to look at. He lacks any firm muscles, has a pudgy middle, pale freckled covered skin, and slowly losing his hair.

Apparently she is aware of his feelings of self doubt because she pushes him back so he is sprawled out and kneels on either side of his hips, her hot center pressing against his hard length. Now it is her turn to explore him, slender fingers and hot mouth pressing into his skin, making him arch and groan as she touches everything she can reach.

When she shifts her hips, taking just the tip of him within her, he finds himself gasping and arching up. His fingers grab her hips, holding her steady as he slowly works himself inside her even as her hips rotate against him. After several moments of a slow thrust and withdraw he is sunk all the way inside her. It is almost more than he can handle after years of celibacy. Over the next few minutes the two of them work out a pattern, a dance as old as time. His peak nears far too quickly for his liking, making him feel like a teenager once more, however he is not a teen and uses one hand to carefully hold her hips, while his other goes to playing with that tight buddle of nerves that makes her cry out for more.

Moments later they are coming together, a ragged sigh being torn from her as he groans her name, arching just one last time as he empties himself deep inside her body.

Afterwards she sprawls across his chest, one hand making small circles across the muscles there.

Slowly drifting off to sleep, he hears her murmur, "I love you Mycroft Holmes," before exhaustion of a long day claims her.

For a while he lays there holding her close, a part of him demanding that he get up to clean them both, but he finds he cannot force himself to let her go. He finally has a goldfish, no a salmon, of his own. If this is the type of feeling his brother has when curled up with his doctor it makes perfect sense to him. Now that he has her, he plans to never let go if he does not have to.

She might be an unexpected gift, but she's his unexpected gift and that is all that matters.


End file.
